The perfect writing table

The perfect writing table has to be out there somewhere
By Margi Washburn

I love to browse furniture stores. Some of my favorite pieces are desks and tables. Okay, I like chairs, too, but not the ususal kind. Office chairs are the best because they go with the desks. If I had my way, there would be a desk and office chair in almost every room.

Please don't bring up this subject with my hubby. He'll probably tell you that our home has exactly that and he would be right. I never hear the end of it when he's right about something. Besides, he might insist that I stop snooping around office-supply places and other furniture-type stores.

The thing is, I have yet to find the perfect writing table. There is a difference between a desk and a writing table. The former usually has drawers and a limited amount of space beneath it. One can't roll up and down the floor without hitting their legs under the desk. With a writing table there are fewer restrictions. I like that.

On the popular sitcom Seinfeld, Elaine worked for J. Peterman and she had the writing table I've been looking for. I'm guessing it was between five and six feet wide, and maybe two or two-and-a-half feet deep. It was perfect, but I haven't been able to find one like it anywhere. I've settled far too many times, which explains why there is a different type of desk or table in nearly every room in our home.

Hubby and I like to go out and browse, so I talked him into looking at the office furniture section at a local store. I found a beautiful, huge desk that was marked way down. To be perfectly frank, it was so big I had no idea how anyone would get it into the house but that didn't stop me from falling madly in love with it.

I sat down in the cushy, expensive leather chair and placed my hands on the desk. I rubbed the gleaming and somewhat scratched surface and smiled. Then I spread out my arms, put my head down and sighed happily.

“Get up,” said hubby. “Now.”

I couldn't. The mammoth desk was only $500 and I wanted it. It looked nothing like Elaine's, but I was willing to settle – again.

“Come on,” he whispered, “you can't have it. You have desks all over the house now.”
Well, no argument there. I got up, and walked slowly around the desk while trailing my hand around the edge. What was I thinking?

A few months later I found myself in the same store, in the same section. Maybe the price had come down and I could surprise hubby with a bargain. It was a surprise, all right. The price was still $500, but now there was a new feature: a nearly foot-long gash across the top. That should have been good for a discount, but I didn't ask for one. I left, wondering if I would ever find Elaine's desk.

Today I am alone, for the moment, and there is a furniture store down the road a ways. They're having a huge sale, and I'm feeling the familiar pull toward that elusive bargain. Hubby is nearly 50 miles away and completely unaware of my plan. I can only hope he doesn't find the sale flyer I left on one of the desks. I wouldn't put it past him to give me a buzz on the phone just to tell me, “Get up. Now.”